


Take my hand, take my whole life too

by thelittle_startrooper



Series: You don't have to say I love you to say I love you [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Mentions of PTSD, basically no one is okay, i love my gay sons though, mentions of Lucius and Narcissa, mentions of the war, so they have a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 04:23:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17114408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittle_startrooper/pseuds/thelittle_startrooper
Summary: Harry chuckled. It was light and airy and full of love and Draco decided he could listen to it forever.At the end of the Battle, a wrecked Draco wants to find solace in his thoughts. What he encounters instead is surprising, but not unwelcome.





	Take my hand, take my whole life too

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my series You don't have to say I love you to say I love you. This is a collection of works from various fandoms exploring the different ways people can show and say they love someone in all the ways humans know how.

The silence surrounding the castle was deafening. It pressed down on all sides, making the last few hours feel like a dream. It was real though. Draco sported the wounds to prove it. There was rubble everywhere, broken statues and damaged people huddling in groups. He stifled a sob. His home was crumbling down around him, and his family was torn apart, and if he hadn’t done the things he’d done, there wouldn’t have been a battle so horrific. 

It’s all my fault.

Draco moved past the groups of students congregated in the Great Hall. He knew he wasn’t welcome, there was no point in pretending he was. He continued up the once-grand marble staircase, and down a corridor he hadn’t really noticed before.

I’m the reason they’re dead.

He paused next to a tapestry; he slid down the wall, his head in his hands.

I could have stopped this.

Draco knew in his heart there was nothing he could have done, but the horrors of the past few hours blinded him to that fact. He let out a sob. It echoed down the seemingly endless corridor, shattering the silence and his resolve in one fell swoop. 

It’s all my fault.

The faint sounds of Mozart’s Lacrimosa drifted down towards him. Despite himself, Draco snorted. What a fitting soundtrack to his current predicament. He realised, a little late, that it was on a piano. It was being played beautifully, the crescendos building up to the grand finish almost perfectly. Draco stood up. He followed the noise. It was coming from a room Draco had never seen, tucked away at the end of the hall behind a tapestry. He entered quietly, and gasped. It was a music room, a stage flooded by lights. There was a grand piano in the centre, the hood open, and sitting there was- no way. Potter was playing the piano. Expertly, if the music was anything to go by. Draco himself knew the piano, as all rich kids did, but he preferred the violin. Considering who Potter was raised by, it surprised Draco to see how comfortable Potter was.

Harry had moved on now, playing something Draco didn’t recognise. Harry looked up, and smiled. “I used to take lessons, but my aunt and uncle decided I wasn’t good enough for them. I found this room a few years ago, and I come here whenever I need a break.” 

I wasn’t good enough.

“You’re self-taught,” was all Draco could say. Harry laughed, not unkindly. It made Draco guilty; he didn’t deserve anyone’s kindness, and certainly not Harry’s. 

“Do you play?” Harry asked. He scooted along the piano bench, and Draco sat down. He didn’t know why, he had no desire to stay here; Draco wanted to mope and cry and eat Chocolate Frogs. Playing piano with his rival was never part of the plan. 

“Course I play, Harry. Who do you take me for?” Harry, the inconsiderate bastard, actually smiled. Draco did his best to ignore it. He started to play Pas de Deux from The Nutcracker, an old favourite. His hands flew along the keys, bouncing back up, his body moving with the piece. Draco felt his emotions explode out into the music. His pain and frustration and anger all pouring into the music. 

I failed Mother.

I wasn’t good enough.

It’s all my fault.

With that final thought bouncing around his head, Draco finished, his hands coming to rest on the keys. He was crying. 

“Don’t blame yourself, Draco. None of this was your fault. You could never have predicted this.” Harry’s voice was soft and kind and understanding. Of course it was. Harry had spent the majority of his formative years fighting the war. The final battle was only the culmination of the years Harry had spent trying to thwart Voldemort’s plans, and they had all worked, for a time. Draco shook his head.

“It was my fault, okay? THIS WHOLE WAR WAS MY FAULT!” Draco sprang up, curling his fists and pacing in the most dignified manner he could. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Draco cut him off.   
“I don’t CARE what you think. Everyone loves you. You don’t know what it’s like to have to live among people who don’t actually like you!”

“I don’t know?” Harry yelled back. “Me? Of course I know. Do you think the Dursleys actually cared about what happened to me? Do you think Snape ever gave a damn? He bullied me constantly. And Dumbledore didn’t really care, otherwise he never would have made me his little soldier. Most of the people who genuinely cared about me are dead!” 

Draco deflated. “I’m sorry. You’re right.” He dragged his hands down his face, sighing. “I just… how can you say this wasn’t my fault?”

“Because last I checked, you weren’t a Death Eater. Not voluntarily, anyway.” Draco slumped back down onto the piano bench, his back to the keys. 

“It’s all my fault.” The words plagued him, and he had the feeling they would continue to do so for as long as he lived. Harry shifted next to him, putting an arm around his shoulders. 

“What do I need to do to make you realize how much I admire you for your bravery?” Draco spluttered, turning to face his once-enemy. 

“You what?” 

“I admire you. And I expect somewhere down the line, I fell in love.”

“Took you long enough.” Harry chuckled. It was light and airy and full of love and Draco decided he could listen to it forever. They stayed there, on that bench, leaning against each other, and Draco thought that maybe, maybe, with enough time and a life full of love and healing, he could start to believe that Harry was right. 

It’s not my fault.

**Author's Note:**

> This is unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own. Thanks for reading!


End file.
